


Any Other World

by kissthemforme



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/F, M/M, This takes place during present day, also there's some potential relationships I'm undecided on, it's just Very Gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29710236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissthemforme/pseuds/kissthemforme
Summary: It's summer break for university students, and third year Jim Kirk is spending most of his free time working at The Bridge Coffee shop. The cookies are dry, and the seating is more than lacking. Life is mundane  Sometimes black haired strangers with pointed ears are just what is needed to make a summer break a little more fun.
Relationships: Christine Chapel/Nyota Uhura, James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Any Other World

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy hey! If you for some reason found the incredibly description actually intriguing, nice. I started writing this as a way to find creative fulfilment while working, so it might not be updated super often. This is just a fun side project that I kinda wanna share. I hope y'all enjoy! Also big thank you to my two beta readers!! They're the reason this might actually be fun to read.

The Bridge Coffee Shop wasn't the most popular coffee shop in the city. The Bridge Coffee Shop also wasn't the second most popular coffee shop in the city. In fact, if you Googled popular coffee shops nearby, it wouldn't show up. It was an out of the way building, squeezed tightly between a bridal supply store, and a high end seafood restaurant. It didn't have much in the way of seating, just a few tables and a couple bar stools at the front counter. The cookies were always a little dry (especially the oatmeal raisin. Not that oatmeal raisin cookies are particularly good to begin with), and the album Life in Cartoon Motion was almost always playing over the speakers.

While it was small and out of the way, and the cookies were dry and there was a severe lack of seating, Jim Kirk still loved the Bridge. Sadly he couldn't control most of its flaws (and he wasn't even sure if he even wanted to). He could, though, control the music. And he did regularly. His manager Nyota Uhura hated him for it. She claimed there were only so many times you could listen to Life in Cartoon Motion by MIKA before it drove you crazy. Jim disagreed. So did Chekov. Plus, when Uhura had hired him, she hadn't said he couldn't play the same album every time he worked. So he continued, and he would continue until he was fired, or quit. As he looked at it, none of the customers cared. It wasn't like any of them were regulars. Someone would probably have to show up every day for a week to realize that the music playing overhead was the exact same album that had played the previous four days. 

"One of these days the stereo system is gonna magically break," Uhura muttered as she poured steaming coffee in a pastel blue mug. 

Jim watched as she handed the mug to a phone-occupied man with a steady ease. Not a drop spilled. "Why Uhura, are you implying that you may, in fact, break our treasured radio?" 

Uhura glared at him. When Jim had first been hired, he had thought that Uhura was a kind, well put together person. Whenever she made coffee it was always perfect, and she was as smart and communicative as they come. Now, he knew very well that she would verbally slaughter him if provoked. And it would hurt just as much as if he was being physically killed. He knew from experience. Yet he still regularly went out of his way to provoke her. Some people never learn. 

"I like your music Kirk. It's almost as good as the music we have in Russia! Actually, I think MIKA was born in Russia…" Chekov handed Jim a slip of paper. "Rooibos latté with oat milk." 

Jim scanned the slip, rereading the order. "Actually, MIKA is French "

"...Oh. Well he should be Russian."

Jim liked Chekov, he really really did. But if the kid mentioned Russia one more time, he would have to kick him in the shins. Chekov was a Russian exchange student, seventeen years old and taking an advanced university math course. He was supposedly some kind of math genius, but he didn't seem to be a genius of much else. 

Jim topped off the latté with steamed oat milk and tried to draw a little picture of a flower. It looked like a foot. He quickly stirred away the foot, and handed the mug to a young human with bright orange hair and mushroom earrings. "Enjoy!" 

They smiled and walked off to an empty table. This was always The Bridge's slowest time, the awkward time between lunch and dinner when most people had just finished their work break. By then, most people had fueled their caffeine addictions and wouldn't be coming in for drink.

Jim ruffled through the straws and napkins. He could feel Uhura glance at him as the album playing overhead switched to the next song. He slowly peeled his eyes away from the napkins. Uhura's dark eyes bore into his. They both knew which song came after this one. And they both knew what happened every time Jim heard it. Chekov turned and nervously peered through his bangs at the stare off. 

"Kirk…" A glare started to grow on Uhura's face. "Why don't you go in back and get some more napkins. We're running a little low."

"But Uhura, the napkins are full," Chekov pointed out, his voice just above a whisper. The glare shot his way. He snapped his mouth shut. 

"You're right, the napkins do seem to be running low… I can absolutely do that for you. And I'll make sure to be as quick as possible as we're in such dire need for napkins."

"No no, Kirk. Take your time. I wouldn't want to rush you."

Jim wiped his hands on his cream coloured apron, picking up the metal napkin dispenser. Holding eye contact with Uhura, he walked through the back doors into their storage and kitchen. She thought she could contain him. No. He knew the timing of the song all too well. He would not be contained. He would take his time. 

He gingerly opened a new package of napkins and placed around a quarter of them in the container. One at a time. Chekov had been completely right, they didn't really need any more napkins. 

Jim could hear the song change at the front. He needed to wait 45 seconds tops. He had to time this perfectly. He neatly placed the package of napkins back on the shelf, and with a powerful inhale, kicked the door to the front open. "ERASE MY LOVE." He belted, slamming the napkin container on the front counter. Eyes squeezed shut, he draped himself across the cash register. "I BET YOU CAN'T ERASE-" 

He stopped. 

He looked up at Chekov, whose hands he just so happened to be squashing between his back and the cash register. Chekov, who was facing a customer. Jim slowly looked over at the customer, still half laying on top of the register. The customer was tall and thin with black hair cut into a neat bowl cut. His eyebrows were pointed upwards at the ends, and god those were really nice cheekbones… The customer cocked one of his eyebrows at Jim. Were his ears… pointy?

"One of these days I'm firing you Kirk," Uhura muttered from somewhere behind him, the clench in her teeth audible. 

Jim quickly straightened himself out, pushing himself off the cash register and brushing sandy hair out of his eyes. "Nice ears. Off to a DnD campaign?"

The customer looked blank faced between Chekov and Jim. "...Yes." 

Jim grinned. "Are you playing a Paladin? Your cosplay is pretty well done."

"Isn't it? I was just telling him it looked very good." Chekov exclaimed excitedly, handing a hot mug to the customer. 

It was a fucking flawless cosplay. He was in regular clothing, just a pair of black jeans and a blue button up tucked neatly into his pants, but he still managed to look like a table-top character come to life in modern day. His makeup was flawless and wouldn't have been noticeable if not for the hint of a green hue Jim thought he could see on the tips of his ears and nose. A light brushing across his cheekbones. 

"My name's Jim by the way. Is this your first time here?" Normally Jim didn't chat too much with the customers, but this guy was so pretty… and the pointed ears looked really good on him. 

"My name is Spock. This is my first time at this establishment."

"Spock? Staying in character. I like it."

The black haired man tipped his head to the side. "I'm afraid I do not understand." 

Jim's face burned violently. Shit. "Sorry, I just assumed that was the name of your DnD character." 

"I see. Spock is the name I was given at birth." 

Jim winced internally. This was not going as smoothly as he wanted. "It's a nice name! I've never heard it before."

Spock stared at Jim. He really couldn't tell if he was glaring or if his resting face just looked ever so slightly pissed off. "Indeed."

"Well uh, enjoy your drink!" 

"Yes." Spock turned around and sat a true table farthest from the front counter. 

Jim felt a sharp jab in his back. The jab was Uhura's elbow. "That went horrible you know. Stop flirting with the customers." 

He just shrugged and stared at Spock. Uhura was right. Jim's flirting attempt had massively failed, and would probably play over in his head at three in the morning for months. 

After a painful hour of Jim nitpicking his horrible flirting and silently pining after the dark haired man, Spock returned his empty mug. 

"Did you like it?" Jim asked brightly. Maybe too brightly. 

"I did."

"Great! Come back for more whenever you like! Hopefully I'll see you around?" 

A pointed eyebrow flinched up towards straight black bangs. "Indeed."

***

"And then he just said 'indeed' and left." Jim crossed his legs aggressively, earning a grumpy 'oof' from his roommate whose lap his feet were currently occupying. 

"It really doesn't sound like he was interested."

"You don't know that. Maybe he was."

"I think you're being a little too positive with this one Jimbo."

"Fuck you Bones."

"Only consensually."

Jim winked at his roommate and laughed as a scowl formed on his face, making him look like an angry bulldog. "I really need to stop making that joke with you."

Jim and Bones had met a year ago thanks to a desperate ad asking for a 'tolerable and decent roommate who isn't my fucking ex-wife.' Bones had posted the ad. Jim had lied about how tolerable and decent he was. Now they were practically inseparable, best friends one might even say. It's strange how life does that sometimes. 

"I'll bet you ten bucks he'll show up again."

"You don't have ten bucks Jim."

"He better show up then cuz obviously I need ten bucks

**Author's Note:**

> The song Jim does his wonderful dramatic performance to is Erase by MIKA !


End file.
